MIGUEL'S MANSION
Elizabeth sat in the living room, legs tucked beneath her on the wide couch, slowly sipping her tea. Her eyes stayed fixed on the cup in her hands, not even flinching when she heard Miguel’s footsteps coming down the stairs.
He walked into the room, eyes immediately going to her, but she didn’t look up.
“Morning,” she said flatly.
Miguel paused briefly at the edge of the room, studying her tone before responding.
“Morning,” he replied, walking in fully. “How are you feeling?”
Elizabeth shrugged without looking at him. “I’m fine.”
He took the armchair across from her and leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. His eyes didn’t leave her. “You don’t look fine.”
“That’s probably just the lighting,” Elizabeth muttered, sipping her tea again.
Miguel did
